


re: chat

by aalphard



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Office, Attachments AU, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Miya Atsumu is a Little Shit, Miya Osamu is also a Little Shit, Sakusa Kiyoomi is Whipped™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aalphard/pseuds/aalphard
Summary: He likes Miya Atsumu in everything he is, from the dorky emails to the way he looks, from the childish giggles to the soft, muffled laughs when Kiyoomi attempts to joke back.Yeah, no, that was terrible…Kiyoomi smiles at his computer screen. And then he tries to gulp it down, pressing his lips against each other so hard they’re white, his nails digging into his thighs, his eyes almost bulging out because oh,fuck of all fucks.He probably likes Miya Atsumu way too much, doesn’t he?or: kiyoomi hates the fact that his new cybersecurity job involves reading other people’s emails. that is, of course, until miya atsumu shows up.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 74
Kudos: 467
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	re: chat

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was written for the sakuatsu fluff week day 9 prompts: **alternate careers** || **"you're staring"**

**From:** _ < _ [ _miyatsumu@bbcorp.com_ ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com) _ > _

**To:** _ < _ [ _m.osamu@bbcorp.com_ ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com) _ > _

**Subject:** _GIANT PROBLEM_

_You were right I admit defeat._

_I am, in fact, kinda interested in cute cyber-whatever guy._

_Happy now?!?!?_

**From:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

 **To:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

 **Subject:** _Re: GIANT PROBLEM_

_lol_

**From:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _Re: Re: GIANT PROBLEM_

_I hate you so fucking much._

_You won’t be invited to my wedding with Cute Guy._

**From:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: GIANT PROBLEM_

_To have a wedding you need to talk to him and get him to like you first so…_

**From:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: Re: GIANT PROBLEM_

_I hate you._

**From:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: GIANT PROBLEM_

_:)_

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Sakusa Kiyoomi, twenty five, had applied for a job at a renowned corporation as an internet security agent, he had pictured himself doing something closer to building firewalls and crushing hackers or literally anything else he’d been doing since graduating. What he had _not_ expected was to be guided towards this little cubicle just outside the major offices and being told to handle whatever _communication monitoring and fortification_ meant. At first it sounded interesting, he had to admit, the thought of _monitoring_ making it sound like a phrase right out of an action film.

It wasn’t nice finding out it just meant reading other people’s emails.

There was a whole list he had to memorize, tons of reports he had to write whenever someone thought it would be fun to forward a dirty joke to the whole journalistic team. Honestly, working at Bouncing Ball Corp had sounded a lot more magical than it actually was, Kiyoomi has to admit, because having to write _Offense #87: Individual 1 and Individual 8 made use of improper language and mocked a fellow employee in their email exchange between 10AM and 11AM on 15/02_ wasn’t exactly a dream come true if you ask him.

The higher-ups had talked to him about why his position was necessary during a coffee break one day, laughing and waving their hands up in dismissal as Kiyoomi tried his best to pay attention to what they were saying. _It’s just reading emails,_ he told them, _it’s not particularly hard._ Middle aged men, Kiyoomi found out, had thunderous laughs and hoarse coughs as they tried to catch their breaths, _But you’re necessary, Sakusa-san. It’s impossible to know if they’re working or if they’re taking quizzes or watching porn. Believe me, it happens more than you think it does._ He didn’t need to say that with such conviction, was what Kiyoomi thought back then.

Fact is: he’s stuck sitting in a cubicle all day, scrolling through thousands of flagged emails containing _suspicious_ words that, sometimes, didn’t even make any sense. The list ranged from slurs and actually concerning topics to _secret_ or _classified_ which, in his opinion, was just plain stupidity. The program they use to filter the emails Kiyoomi is supposed to read also flags large attachments and suspiciously frequent and/or long messages. 

Because of that, every day from 9AM to 6PM Kiyoomi had to sit through hundreds of emails that were sent to a secure mailbox only he had access to. It kind of felt like a secret agent kind of thing for the first week or so, but now it was just a pain in the ass. The superiors had told him all of their employees knew their search histories and emails were visible to the IT staff at all times just so they behaved, but Kiyoomi is pretty sure no one bothered to tell them there would be someone sitting through hours and hours of their dirty jokes, personal information and flat-out pornographic content sometimes. Just his luck.

It got tedious, alright.

He had already filed reports on inappropriate jokes told between employees and sometimes even between the higher-ups, on employees organizing unprofessional gatherings at clubs and bars, on the flirtatious exchanges that sometimes happened on Fridays and the two people Kiyoomi couldn’t stand to watch tiptoeing around each other for what felt like forever, sending each other more _xoxo’s_ than strictly necessary.

The only solace he had came from these two, sometimes three, people who seemed to forget they were being watched. Their emails were pretty entertaining sometimes, ranging from how boring their work was to the horrible attempt at dating one of them had last Saturday (with details!) and, if he had to count, the report he had on one of them was already past the ten-page milestone.

Miya Atsumu, according to the company directory, was part of their Design Department, the face behind the cool logos, graphics and layouts. There were pictures of him standing proudly in front of their newest branch, a bright smile on his face as he pointed to the neon logo shining beside him. Bright blond hair, perfect smile and the prettiest eyes Kiyoomi has ever seen, if he may add.

In all honesty, Kiyoomi knows he should have turned in his report on Miya Atsumu a long, long time ago, but he couldn’t be blamed for wanting to see more of his unsuccessful love life and the relentless teasing he got from his brother, if seeing them walk around the building during their lunch breaks was any evidence, if the two of them sharing the same face means anything. Kiyoomi wanted release from the boring memes, borderline pornographic emails and all of those failed attempts at flirting and the Miya brothers gave that to him. 

He just wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the hilariously detailed accounts of the many disastrous blind dates every Monday morning and the relentless teasing that usually came with a _you should’ve known better, have you even looked at this dude’s face?_ Kiyoomi didn’t know who they were talking about, but judging from the absurdly long chain of emails being sent back and forth, he was sure Atsumu was trying to explain himself while Osamu pretended to believe.

It wasn’t intentional, the pile of warnings he never got to send.

Before he knew it, three offenses had turned into twelve and into who knows how many after that. Maybe because he couldn’t figure out what rules they were breaking or maybe because it just seemed like harmless banter, the relentless teasing and the overused emojis. Or maybe Kiyoomi was just spending a lot of time hunched over his computer, typing so many reports his fingers were numb, maybe [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com) was the one thing he looked forward to every morning. Maybe.

He yawns, stretching his arms over his head for a second before blinking lazily at the pile of flagged emails waiting for him to look through them. There’s the creepy guy from upstairs, the one with the round glasses and suspiciously stained shirts. There’s that shy girl who was known for being overly anxious, all of her emails being flagged for being way too long. And, of course, there’s _them_ , an entire folder dedicated to their exchanges. 

Kiyoomi clicks on that one first.

**From:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ b.koutarou@bbcorp.com ](mailto:b.koutarou@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _Fatty tuna?? ;)_

_So there’s that new restaurant I told you and Samu about the other day._

_We could go today to try out their bowls, I heard they’re quite good._

_And also!! Samu’s paying this time so :)))_

**< <Koutarou to Atsumu>>** _I can’t :(_

_I brought lunch today :)_

_‘Kaashi made me an adorable bento, hold on. I’ll show you!!_

**_Attachment.jpg_ **

_Isn’t this the cutest thing you’ve ever seen??? :D_

**< <Atsumu to Koutarou>> ** _Can you stop bullying me for being single??_

_I’ll throw myself out the window._

**< <Koutarou to Atsumu>>** _But it’s so cute!!!_

_I woke up to him humming our song as he made it :)_

_He told me this morning he thinks he’ll start cooking for the both of us since it’ll be healthier than eating junk food from across the street all the time. And he’s a great cook, too! Maybe it’s because he talked to your brother about those recipes that one time, remember?_

_Well, whatever._

_Ever since then he’s been really interested in trying out new recipes and now we have a tradition of baking cookies and brownies every weekend. We usually burn them, though…_

_But last Saturday we didn’t! And it was the tastiest brownie I’ve ever eaten so we might be able to open our own restaurant one day. Or maybe a boulangerie??? Keiji makes the sweetest sweets and the tastiest food, I’m telling you Tsum-Tsum. I’ll invite you over for dinner one day and you’ll see._

**< <Atsumu to Koutarou>> ** _You have been invited to Miya Atsumu’s funeral._

_Cause of death: Bokkun and his stupid husband who makes him stupid bentos and the stupid married life they’re shoving down his throat to remind him of his miserable, nonexistent love life._

_(I’ll hold you to that promise. Don’t tell Samu. I want him to be upset because I was the one who tasted Keiji-kun’s food first.)_

**< <Koutarou to Atsumu>>** _:) !!!!!_

See, that’s precisely why Kiyoomi couldn’t send them a warning.

He’s pretty sure they’ve broken some rules. Reading through the exchange again, he’s positive that the word _death_ is on the flagged list. He wasn’t so sure about the rest of the conversation, but at least now he knows why it got sent to his mailbox first thing in the morning. It’s usually things like these that he gets from these two, sometimes three, individuals he’s only seen a couple of times during their coffee breaks. It’s either this or the Miya brothers bickering about something Kiyoomi doesn’t understand. Sometimes _Bokkun_ ends up in a pinch and sends them a thousand emails in the span of five minutes. 

Kiyoomi likes them. Well, as much as you can like someone from reading their emails and watching them from afar in a non-creepy way.

(He swears he’s not creepy, he just likes watching people. And, apparently, reading their emails now…)

**From:** _ < _ [ _miyatsumu@bbcorp.com_ ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com) _ > _

**To:** _ < _ [ _m.osamu@bbcorp.com_ ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com) _ > _

**Subject:** _FATTY TUNA PLEASE_

_Have lunch with me I beg._

_I’ll even pay!!_

_Bokkun bailed out on me because of his stupid husband who makes him stupid bentos and now I’m all alone and in need of someone who’ll try out those good-looking bowls from across the street._

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>>** _No._

_Go find someone else to pester._

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>>** _I hate you so fucking much…._

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _I feel sorry for you._

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>>** _Really???_

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>>** _Yes._

_Really._

_I think you’re the most pathetic person I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet. Even Bokuto-san bailed out on you._

_It sucks that we have the same face._

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _We don’t have the same face._

_I’m cuter :)_

Kiyoomi almost chokes on his own spit, eyes growing wide and lips being broken apart by a smile. _This guy knows no subtlety,_ he thinks to himself as he clicks on the next chain he needs to look through. He doesn't recognize these names and the topics are boring, something about a football team Kiyoomi wasn't interested in, something about cheap alcohol and the thousands of other things people liked to talk about during work to, well, _not_ work. He reads people’s terrible attempts at flirting, he reads their dirty jokes and the horrible, _horrible_ attempts at sexting from the two people he swears are old enough to be his grandparents.

_Offense #126: Individual 34 and Individual 20 made use of improper language and broke the company’s rules by engaging in an illicit relationship as explicitly prohibited in their signed contracts as employees in Bouncing Ball Corp. The exchange happened between 10AM and 11AM on 16/03._

_Offense #127: Individual 15 and Individual 27 made use of improper language and proceeded to organize an unprofessional gathering at an unnamed bar. The exchange happened between 11AM and 12PM on 16/03._

Kiyoomi doesn't know why, but he doesn't write a report on Miya Atsumu today. He reads through his flagged emails again and again, smiling to himself as his eyes lock on his last message. “ _i’m cuter,”_ he wrote. Perhaps it's because the AC is broken or maybe he had too much coffee, but Kiyoomi suddenly feels his cheeks heating up when the image of Miya Atsumu’s face shows up behind his eyelids, when his laughter echoes inside his head and his eyes are all Kiyoomi can think about. _Huh..._

_Huh!_

He almost emails him.

_Are you still looking for a lunch buddy?_

He doesn't email him.

  
  


* * *

“Did you really just call me to whine about your job again?”

He did.

“I’m not _whining_ ,” Kiyoomi sighs as he stares at the pile of unread emails waiting for him. “I just don’t really like having to spy on people. Do you even realize how many times I had to go through these lame attempts at sexting from people I have to look at every single day? And they come here all smiles and small talk in the mornings but I know better. I know they want to strip each other and go all-out on top of their desks. They said so themselves!”

There’s silence on the other side of the line for a second. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“Precisely my point.”

He calls his cousin on a daily basis now. At first it had been because he was bored and had no one else to talk to, being too scared to walk in on those people doing their weird shenanigans on top of the couch in the breakroom of something. A few days after that and it had been because _should I send these guys a warning if they’re just being friendly or do I let it pass as a flagging mistake?_

Now it was habit.

“So… how’s the cute-funny guy you mentioned?”

_Ah._

Because of course Motoya would ask about him, out of all things Kiyoomi had been thinking about all day. He hasn’t told him about the time he almost invited him out for lunch after two people bailed out on him. He hasn’t told him about the time he almost spit out his coffee when, as he was reading yet another exchange, Miya Atsumu in the flesh was standing right beside him with an arched eyebrow, _are ya purposely ignoring me or what?_ He hasn’t told him about the way his heart raced and the way his voice sounded choked out as he quickly turned off his monitor and smiled weirdly at him with a _hi, yes, everything is fine, I wasn’t ignoring you, it’s just that…_

And, most of all, Kiyoomi hasn’t told him he hasn’t stopped thinking about his hazel eyes and the smooth velvet of his voice slowly wrapping around his throat as he blinked down so, so slowly, as long lashes fluttered up and down, as Kiyoomi lost all ability to breathe when Miya Atsumu, _the_ Miya Atsumu, renowned media designer, prettiest person Kiyoomi has ever met, hilariously unlucky when it came to love, was suddenly laughing at him, with him and everything in-between as he nodded. _It’s okay. Just wanted to let ya know someone was calling for ya by the receptionist’s desk. Something ‘bout programming and debugging and the complicated slang._

“He’s…”

Miya Atsumu was a lot of things, from what Kiyoomi could see sitting inside his cubicle all day, munching on the dry cookies he got from his coworkers and drinking the crappy coffee left in the coffee maker for far too long. He was loud and honestly kind of annoying with his tapping, his hair instantly making every room brighter and his eyes sparkling with a child’s excitement as he talked and talked and talked about something Kiyoomi couldn’t hear. He had a nice smile and the most adorable laugh Kiyoomi had ever heard. He was gorgeous, there was no other way to put it.

Yeah, he was kind of a jerk, but Kiyoomi is sure he could top his _jerkiness_ if he tried.

“He’s alright, I think?”

_Lies._

“I know you’re lying.”

“This is just you making assumptions about me,” Kiyoomi shrugs as if Motoya could see him. His eyes are locked on the body moving towards him in slow, easy steps as Atsumu stares down at his phone, typing away without even paying attention to his surroundings. “He’s average-looking. Kind of a jerk. Funny when he tries to be. Nothing much.”

“ _Right_ ,” Motoya laughs. “Because you’re definitely _not_ secretly staring at him whenever you can and actively looking for his email address to show up on the screen.”

Kiyoomi gulps.

“Oh, okay. I should’ve known.”

“You don’t _know_ anything,” Kiyoomi sighs. “Shut up.”

It’s a thunderous laugh that echoes, a wheeze and a gasp. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and sighs loudly, resting his elbows on his desk and closing his eyes for a second. So what if he is? So what if he doesn’t even mind being stuck in a cubicle reading emails all day because, well, they’re funny and honestly kind of cute sometimes? Kiyoomi can’t be held responsible for the thousands of warnings he never got to send when they weren’t even doing anything _wrong_ , when they were simply being good friends and trying to make their work hours a bit less boring. He couldn’t blame them for that.

Kiyoomi doubts his superiors even read the reports he submits, probably skimming over the names and contacting the employees to reprimand them and have the talk about how company email addresses were to be used for professional purposes, reminding them cell phones existed for a reason. And, of course, they probably reminded the recurrent offenders, as his boss liked to call them, that there was some unfortunate soul ( _unfortunate, indeed)_ who had to sit through each and every one of their inappropriate emails.

It wasn’t a bad job, being paid to do nothing all day.

“Sure, sure,” he giggles loudly on the phone. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes again. “Whatever you say.”

“You’re just being a jerk now.”

“Takes one to know one.”

_Touché._

“Now stop whining about your _do-nothing-get-paid_ job and go run after your unlucky-in-love-lover-boy,” Kiyoomi can almost _hear_ Motoya’s grin through the phone. “He won’t be unlucky in love forever, you know? He can find himself a nice guy on one of those blind dates he likes so much. What will you do then?”

“There’s no lover boy,” Kiyoomi sighs. “You’re being delusional.”

“Of course I am. Or maybe it’s you who doesn’t want to admit you’ve fallen for that guy. I don’t really know how that happens, loving someone without ever really talking to them but you’re one of the weird ones and I’m a good cousin and a good friend so I support you. Even if I do think it’s a little weird. Go, Kiyoomi! Go get yourself your lover boy and live happily ever after. Or something like that. Now did you know…”

Motoya has a tendency to ramble.

He talks and talks and talks and perhaps that’s why Kiyoomi calls him when he’s already read everything he was supposed to, when he’s left there staring at the ceiling and hoping to hear that silly _ding_ indicating someone has broken the rules again. Sometimes he stares at the hallways hoping to see that mess of platinum gold walking by, hoping to hear the laugh that makes his stomach churn, warmth flooding his insides as a shudder climbs his spine. Sometimes he naps, sometimes he calls his cousin.

Calling him today wasn’t a good idea, Kiyoomi realizes.

“And then I told them that…”

_Ding._

“I have to go now.”

“Wait, I haven’t finished talking yet.”

“Duty calls.”

“I bet it’s lover boy again…”

“There’s no lover boy.”

“Sure there isn’t…”

“I _told_ you-”

… _there isn’t_ , was what he was planning to say.

Motoya also has a habit of hanging up on him when he sees fit. He mostly does it when Kiyoomi is being _too stubborn_ for his liking which is happening quite frequently now, if anyone asks him. He talks and talks and talks and vanishes as if Kiyoomi wasn’t in the middle of a sentence. _And_ I’m _the jerk,_ Kiyoomi thinks with a snort as he cracks his knuckles and yawns before his eyes focus on the bright screen of his computer.

It’s a single exchange, not one of the large ones.

The name _Miya_ draws him in faster than he would be willing to admit. 

**From:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _CUTE GUY ALERT_

_SAMU_

_Okay so I know this is ridiculous and honestly I don’t even know why I’m talking to YOU about this out of everyone I could’ve talked to but !!!!!!!_

_Did you know we have this really cute new guy from the cyberwhatever thing and he’s the cutest little thing when he blushes I almost had a heart attack because HE LOOKS ADORABLE WITH THOSE LITTLE PUPPY DOG EYES AND THOSE PINK FLUSHED CHEEKS SAMU I AM GOING TO DIE_

_AND OH_

_HE HAS TWIN MOLES ON HIS FOREHEAD SAMU IS THIS A SIGN FROM THE HEAVENS IS IT IS IT_

_I’m so bringing him coffee tomorrow morning_

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>>** _I already feel bad for the guy…_

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _Kindly go fuck yourself :D_

Oh, no.

(Oh, yes?!)

(What the fuck?!)

At least now he knows why the exchange was flagged.

  
  


* * *

There’s no coffee waiting for him on his desk the next morning.

And not for the whole month that followed.

His name or, better yet, _cute guy from cyber-whatever_ hasn’t shown up in any of their email exchanges for an entire month. They mostly talk about their lunch plans, how boring work is and exchange insults. Bokuto Koutarou keeps sending them adorable pictures of the bentos his husband makes for him and sometimes even attaches selfies and pictures of their new puppy. Kiyoomi has stopped writing reports on him and, instead, spends an unhealthy amount of time staring at the dog’s silly poses. He’s weak for cute puppies, can you blame him?

He’s also seen a lot more of Miya Atsumu around.

Kiyoomi has his schedule memorized from how many times he walks past his cubicle, waving at him with a(n adorable) smile first thing in the morning before disappearing for the next three hours. He passes by again around noon, phone in hand and hair a bit messier than it was in the morning. When he comes back, his lips are shut tight, pressed against each other so hard they’re white. _Busy day today?_ Kiyoomi only nods, not really trusting his words to come out properly and not choked out, desperate and weird. _So what is it that they have ya doing here all alone? Some kind of secret agent work?_

 _Yeah, kind of_ , Kiyoomi wants to tell him. _I’m the one who reads your emails_.

He doesn’t say that, obviously. He’s not an idiot.

Instead, he chokes out a laugh and replies a soft _yeah, something like that._

Sometimes he ditches work around 4PM and hangs around Kiyoomi for the rest of his shift. He talks about his brother and how he’s a pain in the ass, about how they share the same face and how _but not really because I’m clearly the better twin._ He talks about the bowls from that restaurant across the street and how Kiyoomi should give it a try one day. _The tuna ones are the best_ . He asks Kiyoomi about his skincare routine because _there’s absolutely no way someone has a face like that without at least a 20-step skincare routine, come on._ He asks about his favorite movies and what kind of job would force him to sit all alone, isolated in a corner for the whole day. 

“It’s confidential.”

“Come _on_ , ya can’t be serious…”

Kiyoomi thinks Miya Atsumu should’ve had a warning label on him. He should have it written on his forehead and across his chest in capital letters: _this is the cutest, most infuriating and extraordinary person you will ever have the (dis?)pleasure to meet. oh! and also? he’s got this really adorable accent you won’t ever be able to unhear or stop thinking about. good luck dealing with all of the feelings that come with it._ He gestures when he talks, eyes brimming with excitement as he talks and talks and talks and stares down at Kiyoomi with pink cheeks and a childish smile. _Don’t ya think so, too?_ Most of the time Kiyoomi doesn’t even know what he’s agreeing with, too busy staring at the golden specks floating around inside his eyes to even attempt to pay attention to his words.

_Ding._

He straightens his back and cracks his knuckles, his eyes already burning from the lack of sleep combined with the adrenaline now starting to rush through his veins after his third cup of extremely strong and bitter coffee someone left to cool down by their breakroom. He’d brew some more as soon as he’s done with this, is what he tells himself. He probably won’t, but it’s the thought that counts. 

Or something like that.

He takes another sip, his nose scrunching up involuntarily as cold coffee hits his tongue, bitterness spreading through his mouth, sliding down his throat and _ah, I really should grab a coffee after this._

**From:** _ < _ [ _miyatsumu@bbcorp.com_ ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com) _ > _

**To:** _ < _ [ _m.osamu@bbcorp.com_ ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com) _ > _

**Subject:** _GIANT PROBLEM_

_You were right I admit defeat._

_I am, in fact, kinda interested in cute cyber-whatever guy._

_Happy now?!?!?_

Kiyoomi chokes, coffee dripping down his chin and onto his lap, vision becoming hazy as he struggles to breathe. The words run freely through his head, cold fluid flooding his stomach, the butterflies flying around without a care in the world as his lungs burn from being pierced by bitter liquid, by something that shouldn’t have slid down their way but Kiyoomi couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the shock and the convulsing that came afterwards. His fingers are shaking as he gulps, as he wipes away the trail of cold coffee droplets and spit rolling down his chin and onto his neck because _ew_. 

He blinks once and then twice and then maybe a thousand times after that, his eyes focused on reading the second line over and over again. Miya Atsumu had just called him cute. Miya Atsumu was talking to his brother about him outside of work. Kiyoomi’s head was spinning now, his hands shaking as he clicked away the notification that popped up on his screen telling him there were more emails to be read.

He’d get back to that eventually. 

For now, _Miya Atsumu._

It’s funny, he thinks, how Osamu doesn't even bother indulging his brother. His answers are short and concise, an _lol_ that was definitely the reason why the entire conversation got flagged. Kiyoomi makes a mental note to thank him for that later. (He won’t, not really, but _hey_ , it’s the thought that counts!)

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>>** _I hate you so fucking much._

_You won’t be invited to my wedding with Cute Guy._

Oh.

Kiyoomi blacks out for a second or maybe an hour, fireworks exploding behind his eyes and throat suddenly closing in on itself because _oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck._ Objectively, he knows he shouldn't think too deeply about this, knows there are many _cyber-whatever_ guys in the company. He knows that. But he also knows there aren't many people who have twin moles on their forehead, not that many people who Miya Atsumu bothers talking about in his emails and _ah,_ Kiyoomi feels like he's floating all of a sudden.

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _To have a wedding you need to talk to him and get him to like you first so…_

That wouldn't be a problem, it's the first thought that crosses his mind.

It’s not like they weren’t already talking on a daily basis, whenever Atsumu decided he’d ditch work to stand next to Kiyoomi’s cubicle as he tried to guess what kind of classified information Kiyoomi was working with. He joked around and asked Kiyoomi lots of questions, he brought him sweets from time to time because _they were buy one get one free and I thought about giving those to ya, make yer day a bit brighter or somethin’ like that?_ And, of course, there was the whole winking and the _how ‘bout ya wipe that frown off yer face and smile a bit more?_ that made Kiyoomi want to throw himself out the window so Atsumu didn’t see the heat climbing up his neck and painting a red hue over his cheeks.

It’s not like his heart wasn’t already waiting for him to grab it when he passed by next time, with his tongue poking out of his mouth when he giggled in that childish tone because _oof, having a hard day?_ It’s not like his hands weren’t already trembling as he hid them under his desk, not like his mind wasn’t already running on and on about all of the possible scenarios including him, Atsumu and the coffee he’s still waiting for.

 _Oh, shit, he’s talking about a wedding_ , it’s the second thought that crosses his mind.

Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi realizes, might be too much for his poor heart to handle.

He doesn’t even read the rest of the chain, too busy thinking about weddings and flower arrangements and _ah, Atsumu would look really good in a white suit, hair slicked back and with a bouquet in his hands._ His heart is running a marathon, it seems, from how hard his blood is flowing through his veins, the thumping echoing inside his eardrums so loud Kiyoomi almost believes he’s going deaf.

And then.

_Ding._

**From:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _Get your shit together_

_You said you’re interested in the so-called cute guy from cybersecurity._

_When the FUCK are you buying him that fucking coffee?_

_Because honestly? I’m getting tired of you whining about him all the time now, you know? I have work to do and having you texting me all the time is really fucking distracting. I have to stand here and watch you do your disgusting charming voice and bring him the sweets I was supposed to get in the buy one get one free and YOU STILL HAVEN’T TALKED TO HIM ABOUT YOUR STUPID CRUSH???_

_I so hope he’s the one in charge of the whole creepy email reading thing._

_That way he’ll know you’re not all that you show him you are. What’s up with the hair whenever you go out for lunch??? You’re not that person. This is catfishing. I’ll tell him the truth about you._

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _Why would you wish for that? Do you secretly hate me or something??_

_AND NO I HAVEN’T SHUT THE FUCK UP let me gather my courage first he’s the first cute handsome (and kind of an ass in a good way) guy I meet since forever and I dont want to fuck this up CAN YOU LET ME LIVE_

_Also did you know he likes puppies :(((_

_Do you think we’ll adopt one when we get married and start building our own family or do you think he’s more of a “adopting a kid” kind of guy? Or maybe he just wants to live all alone and we’ll never have to take care of anything other than plants WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE TOO_

_I’m telling you Samu this is THE guy. No more horrible dates THIS IS IT!!!!_

Kiyoomi decides he won’t ever send them a warning.

With red cheeks and trembling hands, he sighs. He likes them way too much, he likes reading their conversations and he likes the eventual puppy pictures Bokuto Koutarou attaches to each and every one of his emails. He likes the Miyas, he likes their banter and he likes how different and yet how similar they are. He likes Osamu and his tendency to overuse the word _fuck_ making almost all of his emails go through Kiyoomi first. It’s fine, really, they’re all adults who swear sometimes. What’s the problem in letting him off the hook for complaining about how _the fucking coffee maker wasn’t working today_?

He likes Atsumu.

He likes his jokes even when they’re not funny. He likes it when he walks by and brings him a muffin or two (“I didn’t know if ya liked it but I figured I could bring ya somethin’ nice to make work less boring.”), he likes it when he laughs and throws his head back, scrunching up his nose and closing his eyes because it’s just too funny and he can’t contain himself. He likes the thunderous sound of his voice when he says good morning, when he calls someone over and the way it sounds so soft when he crouches down next to Kiyoomi and whispers _what’cha doing?_

He likes how interested he is in the smallest details, how he remembers everything Kiyoomi tells him. He remembers all of the steps to his skin-care routine, he remembers when he told him he liked dogs and when he told him he liked taking care of plants at home. He likes Miya Atsumu in everything he is, from the dorky emails to the way he looks, from the childish giggles to the soft, muffled laughs when Kiyoomi attempts to joke back. _Yeah, no, that was terrible…_

Kiyoomi smiles at his computer screen. And then he tries to gulp it down, pressing his lips against each other so hard they’re white, his nails digging into his thighs, his eyes almost bulging out because _oh, fuck of all fucks._

He probably likes Miya Atsumu way too much, doesn’t he?

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _Well, you should work faster now._

_I honestly bet he’s the one who has to sit through the employee’s emails (poor soul) because he’s making a funny face and I think he’s going to be sick. If it’s really him, congrats! You just clowned yourself and ruined all your chances of ever dating him._

_Or maybe he’s a weird guy who thinks your advances are cute or something._

_Go figure._

He does think it’s cute.

In fact, it’s one of the only things Kiyoomi looks forward to every day. His bad jokes and the _very important questions_ that always ended up having to do with Bokuto’s useless animal facts. His laughter echoing through the entire building and how that was the reason why Kiyoomi always knew he was walking towards him. His hair that shines like liquid gold when it’s hit by the sun crawling through the windows, when he slicks it back in the morning and shoots Kiyoomi an awkward smile as he walks by. _This was a dare, I promise._ He didn’t need to explain himself, not really, not when Kiyoomi was merely a coworker from another department. 

Can he really be considered a coworker when all he does is spying on him?

Well.

He thinks he’s cute.

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _It is NOT him. He’s too cute to be doing something that boring all day Samu. Tsc, tsc..._

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _What does that even have to do with anything?_

_Hell, I’m cute and I have to sit through your ridiculous emails. Should I block you, then?_

_It’s even worse because I have to deal with you at all times. Remind me again why I agreed to work in the same company you’re working at???_

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _Shut up. I’m gonna shoot my shot._

_(And for the record: you’re not cute. I’M cute.)_

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _(We have the same fucking face, you asshole.)_

  
  


* * *

He couldn’t get rid of the fluttery feeling inside his chest until the next morning. Because Miya Atsumu had said, and Kiyoomi quotes, _I’m gonna shoot my shot._ The rest of his work day had gone by in a haze, his eyes unfocused as he wrote reports on inappropriate conduct and the suggestive language from the two or three company couples. There hadn’t been any other emails specifically about him but he was sure Atsumu’s email to Bokuto about _how do you surprise your husband_ had something to do with him and the approach he was going to take.

_I’m gonna shoot my shot._

Kiyoomi isn’t really sure what he was expecting, but it was definitely not a bright pink post-it note glued to a coffee cup in the middle of his desk staring at him as soon as he gets to his cubicle. _Good_ , he thinks, because had Atsumu followed Bokuto’s instructions of buying expensive lingerie and waiting for him to get home (or to work, in this case), Kiyoomi is sure he would’ve had a heart attack.

He sits down and picks up the note.

He almost wants to send him an email to thank him for the coffee, his brain screaming back at him because _this is the worst decision ever, if you do thank him for the coffee he’ll know you’ve been reading his emails and things will get awkward and he’ll never talk to you ever again._ Kiyoomi sighs, thumb resting over a scribbled _hey, beautiful_ next to a smiling face. It’s unconscious, the way his lips part into a smile, the way his stomach feels warm, the way he shudders and closes his eyes for a second because _ah, this is him shooting his shot._

It’s cute.

Just like him.

Atsumu was funny and he was smart. He was beautiful and interesting and had the kind of job that would make someone even more interesting. He knew how to make someone laugh and seemed to always know what to say. He had pretty eyes and the most adorable smile Kiyoomi had ever seen, his voice like the warm drip of time as the clock above his head whispered _tick, tick, tick_ to the moment he’d show up with messy hair and that characteristic smile of his as he asked him _haven’t ya gone out for lunch yet?!_

Atsumu was a tsunami Kiyoomi would gladly drown in.

The coffee is sweet when it hits his tongue. It tastes like espresso, vanilla pumps and a sprinkle of cinnamon. He closes his eyes for a second and lets the caffeine run through his veins, inhaling deeply before opening his eyes again. Kiyoomi thinks about the emails Atsumu sends to other people, most of the time to the marketing guys, and how most of those end up being flagged because he can’t be bothered to censor himself anymore. It varies from _I can’t fucking wait for this day to be over_ to _Hey, did Bokkun send you a picture of his puppy today? Here, look! I’ll sneak into his house and steal it one day, I’m telling you. LOOK AT THOSE TINY PAWS, COME ON-_

At first it had been a pain, writing all of those reports on profanities and the dad jokes he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at. At first it had been a chuckle and a shrug because _well, he can be funny when he wants to be._ At first it had been the butterflies when he kneeled down next to him and shot him his best smile, head tilting to the side as if he was trying to make Kiyoomi crumble down to his very core right in front of him. And he would have.

But at some point, it became the giggles and the jokes he kept repeating to himself. It became the highlight of his days, to see the puppy pictures and the endless bickering, the way he walked by so many times in the span of five minutes because _I can’t wait for this day to be over already. Mind if I sit next to ya for a few minutes?_ It became the uneasiness of reading the emails that had his name because it felt like betrayal, somehow. It’s one thing to read them, write reports and file them in because that’s what he’s paid to do. It’s one thing to be detached from the people you’re supposed to keep in line, but it’s something entirely different when said person is Miya Atsumu, with his contagious laughter and stupid, handsome face.

Kiyoomi never stood a chance.

_Ding._

**From:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

 **Subject:** _Who knew you could be romantic…_

_I just saw lover boy, cute guy or whatever you want to call him drinking his coffee with the silliest grin on his face. Post-it note and all. What are you, a sixteen-year-old girl? I’ll have to give you that, though, I didn’t think you were actually going to do it._

_And just for the record, I’m definitely going to be the wedding planner. AND the best man._

_I take no criticism._

_I’ll be in charge of the buffet, too. I can’t trust you with your food choices._

_(Oh! And also, I found out his name. Cute guy has a cute name, apparently, and now you don’t have to keep calling him “Hey, you!” or “Stranger” as you’ve been doing. Seriously, how hard is it to ask for someone’s name??! You work for the same company, you should know your coworkers names... )_

_(Now go and confess your undying love for your beautiful Sakusa-san, Kiyoomi-kun, whatever you wanna call him. Just don’t give him any weird nicknames, I bet he’ll punch you if you try.)_

_(Or do. I don’t care.)_

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _OH_

_Omi-kun, then :))))_

_(As long as I get to kiss him and call him my husband and wake up every morning next to him you can do whatever you want with the wedding stuff, I don’t give a fuck.)_

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _He is so going to regret ever talking to you…_

He _could_ email him. 

He could start off with a _hi, I know this is crazy but yeah, I’m the one who has to read your emails and I kinda fell for you because you’re unfairly pretty and I have to sit through thousands of your jokes every single day and eventually I even started to think you’re funny._ Or maybe he could leave him a note like a secret admirer, writing cheesy poems and scribbling hearts all around a bright pink post-it note to make sure he’d see it. Or he could just, you know, do absolutely nothing and watch him complaining as he’s doing now. 

_Omi-kun._

It makes warmth flood his stomach in the best way possible, it makes him shudder and clench his fists over his thighs, the bitter aftertaste at the back of his tongue making him flinch all of a sudden. It’s too conflicting, falling for one as bright as Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi finds out. He’s blinding but inviting, warm but also ardent, everything soothing and yet upsetting. _Ah_ , he thinks, _none of the stories ever said it was going to be like this._

Falling for someone was horrible.

Kiyoomi couldn’t even begin to explain why he mattered to him so much. He tried not to love the side glances, the rolling of his eyes whenever someone took too long to finish talking, the way his giggles echoed through the entire floor, the way he could recite scenes from every Ghibli movie and even act them out sometimes, dramatically closing his eyes and letting his hands fly up over his head. He tried not to love his eyes and the way they looked like ancient relics framed by long, dark and thick lashes that fluttered sleepily at Kiyoomi during their lunch break. _Why don’t ya ever leave? Scared someone will go through yer stuff?_ Kiyoomi had giggled then, shaking his head softly at him. _I don’t really like eating out, too many people and noise. I bring my own food._

The point is that he tried not to love Atsumu, tried forgetting about him by reading a book or two and failed _hard_ because whenever he walked by with that stupid grin of his, Kiyoomi put his book down to stare at him for a few seconds, completely losing focus. And there was also the constant _ding_ coming from the flagging software whenever someone forwarded a dirty joke. It was always from the guys in Advertising. Kiyoomi hated them.

But he couldn’t help but love _him._ Funny how the heart works… 

_Ding._

**From:** < [ b.koutarou@bbcorp.com ](mailto:b.koutarou@bbcorp.com)>

**To:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _Heartbreak_

_Did you know there are entire museums dedicated to broken relationships?? They’re filled with possessions and mementos anonymously donated by real people who have had their hearts broken in one way or another, isn’t that crazy? And each item is displayed along with the story of its significance to the relationship that ended. Most of them are anniversary gifts and the things you get when you first get into a relationship, the things you keep because it reminds you of the good things even when things are starting to get bad._

_‘Kaashi and I talked about it the other day while we were watching a documentary about the museums. He said it’s kinda sad but I think it’s pretty, to love someone so much you decide to share a bit of your story to the world, even if it ended, even if your heart is still in pain, even if you never got to have your happy ending. I think that goes to show everyone goes through heartbreak at least once in their lifetime, the experience of breaking up is a universal one._

_Then we started talking about us and everything that happened since we first got together, the fights and all. We had a talk about our careers and our relationship, how we’ve grown up and now we’re sharing this life. We basically renewed our vows, it was incredible and I cried so much my face is still kinda weird today._

_And then I was just wondering about relationships in general._

_Crazy how love happens and ceases to exist if you don’t take care of it…_

**< <Atsumu to Koutarou>> ** _Just letting you know you almost gave me a heart attack with this whole thing. I thought you guys broke up??? I was this close to forgetting all about love and shoving all kinds of feelings I have in my heart in a box and sealing it away forever. What the fuck, Bokkun. Give people a warning before you start talking stuff like that, jeez._

_First of all: you guys are disgusting and I wanna know when it’ll be my turn to be disgusting, too. I mean, COME ON. Renewing your vows and still being in love since fucking high school?!?!?? God, go away, I don’t want to look at you._

_But the museum thing? Kinda creepy. Not sure if I like that._

**< <Koutarou to Atsumu>> ** _Yeah, thinking about it now it does sound creepy._

_I just think it’s nice to cherish something even after you lose it. These people giving their stuff away and writing about the relationship that ended is something beautiful, you’re learning to let go and letting people know it’ll be okay even if you don’t end up with that person for the rest of your life._

_I’m just thinking about this non-stop now…_

_Relationships are scary…_

**< <Atsumu to Koutarou>> ** _Says the guy that’s been in a relationship since he was fucking seventeen. You don’t have to worry about this kind of thing, Bokkun. You guys are the cutest couple I know and I honestly doubt there’ll ever come a time that you’ll have to worry about finding something to donate to one of these heartbreak museums or whatever they’re called. You just renewed your fucking vows, there’s LITERALLY nothing to worry about._

_Me, on the other hand? Kinda freaking out about several things._

**< <Koutarou to Atsumu>> ** _I’ll tell him that when I get home today._

_I didn’t know you were in a relationship? I thought it wasn’t working out with any of the guys you were going out with. What happened?_

**< <Atsumu to Koutarou>>** _Not in a relationship. Yet._

_The thing is: there’s this guy. And I think he’s the cutest guy I’ve ever met and we talk about lots of things and he’s honestly adorable. He has this really quiet laugh and he hides his smile with his hands, looking away and all, but it’s the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, I swear. His hair is all curly and cute and it looks like he just got out of bed but in the best way possible, you know? Like he spent hours in front of the mirror to make it look perfect._

_So I’ve been crushing on him for a month? Two? Who the fuck knows. And today (after Samu blasted my phone with five hundred texts this morning) I bought him coffee and left it at his desk with a post-it note, a STUPID post-it note because I can’t flirt when I want to, apparently. Which is stupid because I CAN flirt and I’m a good flirter but this guy just makes me weak and I can’t think about anything other than the fact that I could kiss him if I got a little bit closer, if he allowed me to touch him and FUCK, you know??_

_He’s from the whole cyber-whatever department and he doesn’t ever talk to anyone. He doesn’t even leave his desk, Bokkun! What kind of person is he aside from the “doing his job” thing? Samu found out his name today and I still haven’t been able to process it because it fits so well with him I can’t help but want to cry, if that makes any sense. AND TO MAKE IT WORSE now I’m thinking about him being the poor soul that has to go through all of my emails and I want to go there and apologize to him but at the same time I don’t want to look at him ever again because, FUCK, he just watched me making a fool out of myself talking about him over and over and over again and WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO BOKKUN...._

**< <Koutarou to Atsumu>> ** _Did you really just leave him a coffee with a post-it note?_

_That’s like… the equivalent to leaving notes in someone’s locker in high school. Trust me, I’d know. Do you even know how he reacted to it? Did he drink it? Did he read the note? Or did he just throw the whole thing out?_

**< <Atsumu to Koutarou>> ** _Samu told me he saw Omi-kun (that’s his name, by the way) drinking it with a silly smile on his face but then he made this funny face and now I don’t know anymore. Do I come up to him and tell him I’m the one who bought him the coffee? I don’t want him to think I’m cheap, that I’m asking him to pay it back._

_But I also don’t want to keep tiptoeing around this and end up losing him to someone else because word travels fast and I heard some people talking about “curls guy” earlier today and I am NOT letting this happen, Bokkun._

_Maybe I should send him an email. I’ll come up to him and be like “Hi, I kinda want to know if you’re the one who’s reading the employee’s emails because I made a clown out of myself and I’m kinda interested in you so, well, can you just forget about all that you’ve read and just focus on my beautiful face and charming voice, please?”_

_Do you think that’s gonna work?_

**< <Koutarou to Atsumu>> ** _Not really._

_But go ahead!_

_I’ll be cheering for you!_

**< <Atsumu to Koutarou>> ** _Sigh._

_I know you will._

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So it’s true then,” it comes from behind him, calm and composed. “They really do have someone reading our emails.”

Kiyoomi lets out a noise that could only be described as a screech.

There are sweat beads starting to form at his forehead, a knot starting to climb up his throat and right now he’s kind of wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole because _of course_ he’d be the one standing right next to him as Kiyoomi typed _Offense #204: Individual 15 and Individual 27 made use of improper language and proceeded to organize an unprofessional gathering at an unnamed bar for the fifth time this month. The exchange happened between 1PM and 2PM._

“I can neither confirm nor deny it,” Kiyoomi replies with a choked voice, his heart clawing at his chest, climbing up his throat in swift moves. His hands are visibly shaking, all color fading from his cheeks. “Can I help you with something?”

Atsumu grins, a predator’s smile as he kneels down, as he rests his elbows on the desk and _oh, fuck_ , Kiyoomi thinks, he’s too close, his cologne is inebriating and _is that eyeliner?_ The blinking cursor on the screen is staring at him, the various _dings_ echoing between them and yet, Kiyoomi can’t move. He can only blink, one, two, three times and let his mouth hang open when Atsumu tilts his head at him, licking his lips slowly, letting his teeth bite down on his bottom lip tentatively and _fuck_. Kiyoomi thinks he’s going to die.

He’s staring. 

His eyes are darker and there’s something lurking behind the specks of gold, something Kiyoomi can’t recognize, something that makes his heart clench painfully inside his chest as Atsumu looks up at him. Objectively, he should have turned the monitor away from him, should have silenced the notifications because the _dings_ are starting to make his ears ring and _Atsumu is here_ , so ethereally beautiful, so dangerous all at once Kiyoomi can’t help but gasp when he clears his throat and crawls a bit closer. 

When Atsumu’s chest hits his knee, Kiyoomi thinks his heart has stopped.

“How’d ya like the coffee, Omi-kun?”

_Ah._

There it is.

“It was great, as they always are, thank you.”

“Was it?” He laughs, shaking his head softly. And then, all of a sudden, his chin is resting over Kiyoomi’s knee, his eyes gleaming with _something_ , his lips curled into a silly grin and _ah, ah, ah,_ Kiyoomi is floating. “Omi-kun?”

“Mm?”

“Is there something on my face?”

Kiyoomi frowns, his nose scrunching up against his will, his lips parting to let a choked sound come out. _No,_ he meant to say, _why?_ What came out instead was a groan, a mix between an animalistic growl and a whimper, his cheeks furiously blushing, warmth flooding the pit of his stomach and _ah,_ how badly he wants the floor to swallow him whole right this second… Atsumu giggles, his head tilting to the other side now, his eyelids fluttering up and down as he bats his lashes gracefully at him, a small dimple showing up beneath his chin.

He shakes his head.

“Really? I could swear there was,” he hums softly as he lets go of him, straightening his back and looking straight into his eyes, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips again. “Because you've been staring at me, ya know?”

_Fuck._

“I could say the same thing right back at you.”

He laughs, the melodious sound shaking Kiyoomi to his very core. “Of course. How could I _not_ stare?”

Kiyoomi thinks he died and came back to life and died again because this is paradise. He concludes that Miya Atsumu has killed him when he first showed up with his hair like _that_ , eyeliner framing his eyes and bottom lip still stuck between his teeth. It’s a work of art, the scene before him, the _dings_ from the software being drowned under the sound of the blood rushing through his veins, under his laughter and the way he cracks his knuckles before getting up. Kiyoomi concludes, then, that Miya Atsumu was, is and will be the death of him.

“How many times have ya written a report about me?”

That was supposed to be confidential. 

“Too many times,” Kiyoomi replies. His heart is still racing, his hands curled into fists over his thighs, his eyes losing focus. _Fuck, he’s too much._ “But I figured I shouldn’t turn them in because you’d probably lose your job from how many times your emails get caught by the program.”

“Oh, so Omi-kun cares ‘bout me, then?” He winks.

 _Yes_ , he wants to say. 

_You’re the only thing that’s keeping me from going insane here_.

_You and the puppy pictures._

“Sure, whatever you want to call it.”

Atsumu widens his eyes, his mouth hanging open for a second before a faint pink shade starts spreading through his cheeks and all the way down to his neck. He giggles softly, his eyes suddenly rolling around to stare at something else, at the floor, at Kiyoomi’s desk and the coffee post-its he keeps by his computer. It only makes things worse, a bright red replacing the pink as Atsumu gulps, as he bites his lips again and tucks his hands inside his pockets. _Oh,_ Kiyoomi thinks, _two can play that game now._

It’s been a month of good-morning-notes and coffee waiting for him by his desk. It’s been a month of banter and homemade lunches because _oops, guess I made too much_ . It’s been a month of Kiyoomi slowly losing his sanity and munching on the insides of his cheeks because _what the actual fuck_ , right? It’s been a whole month of emails that never mentioned his name, a month of strictly professional emails (that sometimes had the word _fuck_ or _shit_ or _suck my dick_ , but that’s just him being himself) and the occasional puppy picture that had both Atsumu and Kiyoomi melting for a good five minutes. It’s been a month of stealing glances and talking about nothing in particular because _hey, we don’t really know each other all that much, do we?_

At first, Atsumu had played with the syllables of his name, letting them roll around his tongue slowly, almost in a teasing way. He called him _Sakusa-san_ for the first five minutes, quickly changing to _Kiyoomi-kun._ The nickname was something he used in his emails whenever he wanted to talk about him, whenever he forgot there was someone ( _him!)_ reading them. _Omi-kun this, Omi-kun that_.

And then today happened.

“Right,” he gulps, his eyes still not meeting Kiyoomi’s. “I’m gonna… leave ya to yer cyber-whatever duties. If ya need me, ya know where to find me. I think? Yeah. I’ll leave now.”

He runs.

He actually turns around and _runs._

Kiyoomi laughs, throwing his head back and letting it hit the back of his chair. There’s a fluttery feeling inside his chest, static echoing in his ears as he closes his eyes, as he unclenches his fists and stretches his fingers. _Huh_ . He opens his eyes again, blinking away the haziness and laughing to himself once again. His hands are still shaking, his heart racing and his thoughts are a literal mess of random syllables and _Miya Atsumu_ because _was that fucking eyeliner?!_

A _ding_ echoes again. 

Right. 

His _cyber-whatever_ duties.

There are dozens of unread emails, hundreds of dirty jokes and flat-out pornographic content he has to go through. He sighs, stretching his muscles and sighing loudly before turning his attention to the computer screen. There’s the guy from Human Resources that always ends up rambling for way too long, the one from Advertising that has the corniest pick-up lines Kiyoomi has ever heard and that one girl from Accounting that always ended up on the list for talking about minesweeper and Animal Crossing instead of talking about, well, what she was supposed to talk about.

His eyes work fast, his fingers typing at lightspeed. _Offense #205_ to _Offense #240_ . He sighs, throwing his head back and closing his eyes again, letting his muscles relax as he allows himself to breathe, finally, his mind running back to _Miya Atsumu_ and the way his voice had a drip of uncertainty, a shadow lingering behind his figure when he asked about the reports, when he, so cockily, smirked and asked a question they both already knew the answer to. Him, with his stupid nicknames and the stupid jokes and everything that made him so frustratingly human, so frustratingly _him_. 

It was preposterous to even think he wasn’t going to fall for the snarky comments and the useless facts he carried around inside his head. Preposterous, even, to think he wasn’t going to fall for the embodiment of an ancient god, his body carved by the heavenly superiors as a retelling of his previous lives, of the time he wandered the heavens and shaped the sun to recreate the warmth of his touch and the scorching fire of his affections.

“Fuck,” he whispers, not to anyone in particular, staring at the chains of emails he still has to go through, the thousands and thousands of words he can’t quite comprehend right now, the piles of reports he never got to send and _ah_ , there’s his name.

Tiptoeing around this is painful, waiting for him to talk and not being able to talk back. Being discovered, being rediscovered, having to act as if it wasn’t eating him alive, the shaking hands and the shortness of breath because _great, he found out._ Kiyoomi sighs again and again and again, the few employees that pass by staring at him with a frown and an apologetic look as if they’re saying _we’ve all been there_ and all he wants to do is scream because _no, you have most definitely_ not _because this is not your regular bad day at work, this is being swept off your feet and crawling in despair because your heart hurts and they’re so beautiful, staring at you and smiling and calling you over and you-_

_Ding._

He clicks his tongue.

 _Miya Atsumu_ is staring at him through the screen.

Kiyoomi almost jumps, his heart threatening to malfunction, his brain suddenly overwhelmed and his hands not being able to grip a mouse properly because _oh, my god._ This time, it’s not a flagged email. This time, it’s directed at him, sitting comfortably in the empty abyss that is his inbox. Kiyoomi gasps, sighs and yelps all at once, a choked sound that he can’t even begin to explain if he wanted to.

**From:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>>

 **To:** < [ sakusa.k@bbcorp.com ](mailto:sakusa.k@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _Chat (caught you!)_

_Don’t ask how I got your email. I have my contacts._

_I’m writing this because I’m upset for not noticing earlier that OF COURSE you were the one who was reading the employee’s emails. The secrecy? Sitting by yourself somewhere you could watch everyone and still hide what you were doing? It definitely helps that you’re the quiet kind and I hate myself for not noticing it sooner._

_But like._

_You’ve read all of my flagged emails? Including the ones where I rambled on and on about how much I liked you? Does that mean you already know? What are you doing with that information? You not rejecting my coffees and keeping the post-it notes definitely means that you’re interested. Right? Or am I just reading too much into it?_

_And honestly WHAT THE FUCK was with you today, being all flirty and shit? That was supposed to be MY thing, you can’t just become this super hot and attractive flirty guy all of a sudden without warning me first. I almost had a heart attack._

_What the fuck, Omi._

Kiyoomi laughs with his whole being, shaking his head and resting one of his elbows over the desk. He stares at the screen, at the words playing with his heartstrings, the melody echoing inside his head screaming Atsumu’s name, forcing him to tap along to a song he already has memorized. His fingers are itching to type back a reply, to tell him everything he’s been keeping a secret, from the way he eagerly waited for his name to show up on his screen to the way his heart swelled every morning when he saw a cup of coffee waiting for him to arrive.

He waits.

One, two, three, four, five minutes.

And then he starts typing.

**< <Kiyoomi to Atsumu>>** _(You totally asked your brother, didn’t you?)_

_I’m the quiet kind? Okay, I can live with that. I’ll just have to disagree with the people-watching part. Doesn’t that make me sound like a creep? Like I actively enjoy sitting here all day to watch people and read their emails to write reports about them? Is that what you think of me?_

_I did. It’s kind of what I’m paid to do._

_Yes, including these ones. (They were my favorites.)_

_I already know. I like coffee and I like post-it notes._

_You don’t have to read too much into it if you don’t want to._

_:)_

It’s a tingling feeling that settles at the pit of his stomach as he waits for a reply, tapping his fingers in a rhythm unknown to his ears. Perhaps he should call it _consequences of having a Miya Atsumu_ or maybe _is this love or just plain anxiety as you wait for an important email to arrive?_ At this point, with his heart clawing at his ribcage, his lungs screaming in agony because _oops_ he forgot how to breathe, Kiyoomi can only think that it’s a little bit of both. 

When the (1) shows up on screen, he doesn’t even wait for the _ding._

**< <Atsumu to Kiyoomi>> ** _(I did.)_

_YOU’VE READ THEM ALL AND YOU DIDN’T BOTHER COMING UP TO ME AND SAYING HI I’M THE ONE WHO READS YOUR EMAILS, STOP TALKING ABOUT ME BECAUSE THAT’S KINDA MAKING THIS WHOLE THING REALLY OBVIOUS FOR ME??? God, Omi, do you enjoy seeing me suffer or what?_

_You are creepy. You’re reading people’s emails for a living._

_And the worst part is that I kind of want to read too much into it. Is that creepy of me?_

**< <Kiyoomi to Atsumu>> ** _Why would I tell you?_

_Making you suffer is the best part of my job :)_

_It wasn’t exactly a choice. When they put up the classified ad it didn’t exactly say “Wanted: someone to read other people’s emails”. I was tricked and now here I am, having to deal with borderline pornographic jokes (sometimes pictures, can you imagine?) and the conspiracy theories from the guys in HR. It’s great, really. I just wish I didn’t have to read those anymore._

_Yes, definitely creepy of you. That makes us a good pair, then. :)_

**< <Atsumu to Kiyoomi>> ** _1\. What the fuck? Do people sext using the company’s email? Ew._

_2\. WHAT THE FUCK_

_I’m definitely going to read too much into this if you keep being all flirty and adorable. You will not escape me and I WILL take you out for dinner tonight. As soon as my shift ends, I’ll drag you all the way down to a nice, fancy restaurant and I’ll treat you to an expensive meal and make you fall in love with me._

_Be warned, Omi._

Kiyoomi muffles his laughter when someone walks by. He stares at the screen fondly, shaking his head again and again because Miya Atsumu is the kind of guy who makes him feel a thousand different emotions in the span of a single second. He’s the kind of guy who’ll have Kiyoomi on his knees, the kind of guy who’ll make him a mess only to put him back together like an intricate puzzle. He’s the kind of guy Kiyoomi wants to do the same to, the kind of guy Kiyoomi can’t help but want to tease, to wrap his arms around and feel the safety of his embrace.

Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi finds out, will be the reason for his unbecoming.

He’ll lose himself in yellows and browns and let Atsumu taste him like he tastes the salted caramel of his own voice. He’ll let Atsumu carve his initials down his back and around his throat, he’ll let him monopolize him without asking for anything in return. Except, maybe, for Kiyoomi to be able to monopolize him as well. Is that selfish of him?

**< <Kiyoomi to Atsumu>> ** _1\. They do. Yes, ew. It’s as horrible as it seems._

_2\. You’re allowed to, didn’t I say this already?_

_I have been warned._

_You’ve just got yourself a date._

_(That bit about falling in love? Hmm, doesn’t sound so hard to accomplish.)_

He’s not shaking. (Lies.)

 _Definitely_ not shaking as he waits for a reply, teeth sinking down on his bottom lip so hard it hurts. It might be enough to draw blood, Kiyoomi thinks before his hands instinctively curl into fists on the table, as his toes curl up without a command, as his whole body tenses up because _that wasn’t exactly subtle, oh my god, what do I do now._

**< <Atsumu to Kiyoomi>> ** _WHAT THE FUCK OMI_

_YOU DON’T JUST DROP THAT ON A GUY_

_FUCK_

_WAIT_

_OH MY GOD OKAY_

_I’LL TAKE YOU OUT ON THE BEST DATE YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN JUST YOU WAIT_

**< <Kiyoomi to Atsumu>> ** _We’ll see :)_

Atsumu doesn’t reply to him.

He watches as one minute turns into five and five turns into ten. His heart is still racing, his ears ringing and his nails digging into his palms as he tries to tell himself that _there’s no need for him to reply, there’s no need for him, there’s no-_

_Ding._

**From:** < [ miyatsumu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:miyatsumu@bbcorp.com)>

 **To:** < [ m.osamu@bbcorp.com ](mailto:m.osamu@bbcorp.com)>

**Subject:** _HELP_

_SAMU_

_GOOD EXPENSIVE RESTAURANTS GO_

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _What the fuck._

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _FUCK OFF I DON’T HAVE TIME TO EXPLAIN IT PLEASE_

_WAIT NO DON’T SAY ANYTHING HE CAN READ IT OMI STOP READING MY EMAILS DAMMIT CAN’T A GUY FREAK OUT ABOUT A DATE WITHOUT BEING WATCHED_

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _Oh, so this is what this whole thing is about._

_Sakusa-san, I’ll have to apologize for my brother. Thank you for letting him take you out on a date, I know he’s not the best choice in the world but I hope you take care of him. Don’t believe him when he says he’ll take you out for a nice dinner, he can’t be trusted with his food choices._

_I can pass by your desk in an hour or two to give you some recommendations._

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _I hate you so fucking much I can’t even put it in words…_

**< <Osamu to Atsumu>> ** _Good luck in making Sakusa-san fall for you._

**< <Atsumu to Osamu>> ** _I’ll fucking punch you, that’s what I’ll do._

_I’m heading to your desk NOW and I’ll wipe the grin out of your face. I’ll take him to a nice restaurant and show him all of my qualities and YOU’LL SEE it won’t be hard to make him fall for me._

Kiyoomi agrees. It won’t be hard.

He chuckles as he shakes his head, as he marks the chain as resolved, as he picks up the reports on _Miya Atsumu_ and buries them deep inside a drawer. It’s past the thirty-page milestone now, a compilation of each and every single time he’s broken a company rule, a compilation of the times he freaked out about _this cute guy with the twin moles on his forehead_ and whatever else he associated with him.

Falling for Miya Atsumu was easy.

 _Now_ , Kiyoomi sighs as he lets his body hit his chair. Now he waits for his date to arrive.

**Author's Note:**

> you're free to come yell at/with me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/aaIphard) (´꒳`)


End file.
